


Forget a Village, It Takes a League

by kuroi_atropos



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Cinematic Universe, Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Genetic Engineering, Non-Con DNA gathering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 05:43:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12698541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuroi_atropos/pseuds/kuroi_atropos
Summary: Martha Kent hadn't been sure what to expect when Bruce Wayne started stopping by for coffee. She wasn't too upset when she ended up with a truly adorable grandson though, nor did she mind keeping an eye on the various other superhero kids that ended up wandering into Kon-El's life. They were rather easy to deal with in comparison to their mentors and parents, after all.





	Forget a Village, It Takes a League

Martha Kent had never really expected to see Bruce Wayne again after Clark’s… after the funeral. She was smart enough to put the slightly mesmerizing man and his rather distinctive jaw together with the caped figure that had saved her from thugs hired by Luthor, but figured that whatever truce or alliance they had would have ended with Clark’s death; that the reticent man would have thought her an extension of Clark, and that was about it. Especially when she considered the imposing woman that kept the brooding, somewhat dower man company throughout the ceremony. 

They both seemed far more removed from average humans than Clark ever had.

Which was why she’d been slightly surprised when one day she’d seen him, a pale shade dressed in muted clothes sitting alone in the back corner booth at the diner she worked at. At first she just stared and blinked, convinced that it was just her mind playing tricks on her. When his specter didn’t vanish though, she paused and wondered...and had an epiphany. Could it be that Bruce Wayne was behind the little things that happened to make her life easier since she’d lost her baby?

Well, better financially at least. 

Her work had been bought out recently and Martha, along with the other employees, had all received raises (rather ridiculous ones in hindsight). Then a grant from a new farming subsidiary program arrived out of the blue, followed by a local college with a new agricultural program asking to use her farm to teach students, which immensely reduced the amount of work she had to put in, especially with Clark gone.

Martha couldn’t help but smile as she studied him. He sat with his back against the wall (somewhere he could see all exits, she noticed), looking out of the window while idly fiddling with a cup of coffee. She glanced around her section and after determining that it was mostly under control, decided to take a break. 

Bruce didn’t even bother to look surprised when she slid into the booth across from him with a cup of coffee and bowl of fruit salad. He did raise one eyebrow in apparent amusement however. The cheeky little brat.

“Mr. Wayne,” she smiled and reached for the sugar, which she sprinkled lightly over the melon heavy mix of fruit before dumping a large amount into her coffee. 

“Mrs. Kent,” he replied, and Martha couldn’t help but notice that his fingers tightened just a little on his cup. She took a few moments to glance over him a bit more thoroughly. He was dressed in clothes that even she could tell were carefully chosen and perfectly tailored. The cut, layers, and monochromatic tones managed to perfectly disguise the build that she knew he had. It didn’t stop the expensive looking suit from being about a thousand times nicer than anything that (to her knowledge) had ever been seen in this dive before. 

His eyes caught her attention the most though. A dull blue that didn’t physically stand out, but the emotion they hid almost took her breath away. Not necessarily sad, but perhaps melancholy fit? Yes, she could see that...and so many more emotions that she couldn’t begin to identify.

In spite of all the tabloid stories, she didn’t get the airheaded playboy feel from the man sitting before her. She hadn’t at the funeral either, but funerals were hard places to get a true reading of someone. Every time she caught his eye he met her gaze squarely, sporting a confidence that couldn’t be born of anything other than experience. He didn’t appear to be condescendingly humoring the old lady, or treating her like he was some type or savior, like a couple of the jerks who’d come around after both John and Clark…

Well. 

Those idiots had deserved their tongue lashings. 

Bruce Wayne however… 

He didn’t sweep in and try to take things over. He just offered, well, help. There hadn’t been a huge “you don’t have to work,” spiel or any sort of heavy hand. He’d just given her enough of a raise to cover the money that Clark had always sent home. 

As for everything else, well, she hadn’t had to accept the grant or agree to work with the Professor and his students. They’d been choices, and more importantly they had been choices she could live with. And having the kids around was something she found she truly enjoyed. They’d been excited and peppy, and wanted to try new things, giving her something to look forward to on the days they visited. And it didn’t hurt that they heaped praise on her cooking and baking. 

So she came to the conclusion that ultimately the man across from her was a good one, no matter what he got up to in a cape. 

However he did look...weighted down, was perhaps the best way to put it. More than she thought running a company as large as his would cause. Perhaps that was more of the cape business. Clark had gotten that look occasionally, and maybe that was the true gauge of his character. Of both their characters. 

“So, how was your day?” she asked, stabbing a piece of cantaloupe. “I know mine got better after I spotted a lonely friend of my son’s.” 

Martha didn’t think many people had ever seen this man’s eyes widen, however slightly, in actual shock like they did now. Even fewer had probably seen him smile the small, off center grin that he gave her after.

“I was actually flying back from Singapore. Figured I would swing by on the way. It’s always nice to see things in person.”

She raised an eyebrow, and waved her fork around the diner, “Like, for instance, checking up on an investment, even if it’s a small one?” 

His grin turned a little sheepish, and he shrugged. “Sometimes the smallest investments are the most important.” 

“Very true,” Martha grinned. She took another bite of fruit. “Now, no dodging the question, though that was very masterfully re-directed. How was your day?” 

He let out a low chuckle. “Pretty well, actually. I was able to finish up a few things much more quickly than I thought, which is what gave me time to visit ahead of my initial schedule.” 

She gave her own little laugh, “I’d imagine that with everything, you’d have more important things to do than keep an old woman company.” 

“Never,” he said, his voice suddenly hard and determined. With those words she saw the most heartbreaking, lost look cross his face for a moment before it vanished under a blank, almost overly charming grin, and Martha suddenly saw the vapid socialite from the news. If Martha hadn’t caught his fingers clenching minutely on his cup again, she might have even been half convinced to believe it. 

“Well then, young man, I will count on seeing you fairly often, and I expect you to be in good health when I do.”

His head tilted a little, and his smile became a little more real. “Of course, Mrs. Kent.”

Martha raised an eyebrow again, not quite believing him. “It’s Martha, Mr. Wayne.” 

His eyes relaxed a little, and the smile, well, it still wasn’t entirely the real one from a few minutes ago, but it felt less forced. She’d consider that a victory right now. 

“Then call me Bruce, I insist.”

“Of course.” 

He laughed again, and Martha grinned into her coffee. 

They sat quietly for a few more minutes as Martha finished her fruit salad, and they both polished off their drinks. 

Martha almost felt bad when she got to her feet to go back to work--poor Janene looked a little rushed covering both sections--when she a thought struck her. “So, what are your plans Sunday night?” 

Bruce’s eyebrows rose. “Pardon?” 

“Sunday. I expect a call. Around 7 will do nicely unless you have other plans. Don’t pretend that you don’t already have the number.” 

He stared at her for a few moments before replying. “Yes, ma’am,” he said into his coffee. 

“Martha, Bruce. Martha.” 

He laughed again, and it was a nice sound that bolstered her as she went back to drop off her dishes and get back to work. Three minutes later Janene rushed up to her wide eyed and just a little scared. 

Bruce had left a $1,000 tip. 

Hmph… Brat. 

XxXxX

Martha wasn’t really expecting anything other than the call that she had asked for, which the poor man had awkwardly complied with. They had a pleasant chat about the diner and farm, followed by his work for a few minutes. Then she’d inquired after his health and he’d blatantly avoided the subject. She had a feeling that he prioritized his health far below everything else he had to do. She decided to fix that. 

After the first call, she went on with her life, expecting him to call a few more times before he lost interest or got too busy as people did these days, almost certain that she wouldn’t see him in person again. No matter what Bruce said he would have better things to do than come by Smallville just to say hello. Which was she wasn’t surprised at the second call the next Sunday at 7 on the dot, but why she had been shocked when he came by three days after that with Lois Lane in tow. 

She’d hugged Lois tightly, happy to see her, and before Bruce could sneak away managed to wrap him in a hug as well, though she kept it short due to his discomfort.

“On your way back from somewhere again?” 

“On our way there,” Lois actually grinned. “Bruce is giving me a ride to San Jose on his way to, where was it?” 

“Still not telling you Ms. Lane,” Bruce said with another semi-fake smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know better than to tell a reporter of your caliber anything that I want kept private.” 

“I’d be insulted, but I did refuse the non-disclosure forms,” she laughed, and Martha couldn’t help her own laugh at how much better Lois seemed since the last time she had seen her. 

“You didn’t even offer to keep things off the record, Lois?” she asked. 

“With the rumors on all the buy outs and corporate takeovers that Bruce here has kicked up recently? Not a chance.” 

Bruce shrugged, and Martha laughed as she led the two to the back corner booth again. Janene, obviously remembering the last tip, had three coffee cups, glasses of water, and menus on the table before Martha could blink, along with a mumbled phrase that might have been something about covering her tables--the whole two of them given that they were in the afternoon lull. 

Bruce drank his coffee black, pushing the sugar towards Martha while Lois poured as many creamers into hers as she could without it pouring over the sides. 

Martha couldn’t help but settle back into the booth as she watched the two verbally spar over, was it a startup purchase? She’d have to get back into the habit of reading the financial section and pick up a few periodicals again. She’d lost her taste for reading them after every article, no matter how removed from the topic, mentioned Clark’s death. 

By the time Bruce and Lois left, Martha was feeling quite a bit upbeat, and as she cleared the table of the bowl from her own salad and Lois’s Ruben, she only rolled her eyes a little before handing Janene another $1,000 tip that she found tucked under the plate from Bruce’s coffee cup. 

XxXxX

The next time Bruce came by, he just accepted his hug resignedly, ordered a coffee to go, spent a few minutes chatting with her about corn subsidies, and gave Miranda a $1,000 tip on his way out. 

Martha couldn’t help but laugh at the woman who hadn’t believed Janene’s stories of Bruce’s visits. 

XxXxX

It was another two weeks before she saw Bruce again, and this time the statuesque woman from the funeral was with him. “Martha, Diana. Diana, this is Martha Kent.” 

Diana nodded her head in a rather regal manner that had Martha wondering if she was some type of European nobility. Her accent, beautiful as it was, only reinforced this image in her mind, though she merely smiled and advised the scones when Diana asked for a recommendation. They were always a safe bet unless you had an actual gluten allergy. 

Martha actually decided to have one herself, in spite of her Doctor’s worries about her cholesterol. Then she watched Diana and Bruce get segued into a 15 minute discussion on the Persephone myth punctuated by sharp jabs from the knife Diana was using on her steak and scone. She was countered by Bruce actually waving his hands occasionally, miraculously not spilling a drop of his coffee. 

Her eyes narrowed, had Bruce- 

“You must back me on this!” Diana insisted, pulling her attention. “As a woman you must know that most men are foolish boys when it comes to what they consider their truth! They have little consideration for others and start wars over inconsequential excuses!” Diana emphasized with another sharp jab of her knife at Bruce, even as she met Martha’s gaze with an elegantly arched brow.

Martha paused for a moment, trying to decide how to respond with both these sleek, slightly otherworldly seeming individuals looking at her so expectantly. “I think that all people, both men and women, can be obstinate when they think they’re right.” 

Bruce snorted a bit and Diana spun back to him, her dark eyes sparking, and they were off again. 

Martha couldn’t but help but hide a grin as their banter extended into who could pay the tab first to poor Ryan’s nervousness, and even though Diana won, somehow Bruce still managed to drop another $1,000 tip.

XxXxX

There were several more instances of Bruce swinging in for lunch or coffee, enough that Martha started a pointed running joke about being the only place for coffee in the country. Sometimes he was on his own, other times Lois or Diana accompanied him. Once there was an older man, Lucius Fox, who managed to keep up with Bruce for twenty minutes on the benefits of branching into some strange sub-field in metallurgy. Martha was quite proud of how she managed to stump them both with some estimates for widespread implementation of updating various types of local infrastructure set ups to cover their own machining versus freighting in equipment. She might not be a corporate big shot, but she knew her way around numbers. 

It was oddly that visit when Bruce had had to leave her alone as Bryan, with more gumption than Martha really had ever given the old owner credit for, came out to ask a question. With it, she fully confirmed the suspicions she’d had that Bruce was the new owner, even if he dodged her inquiries on it every time she brought the subject up as more than a hint. Martha had merely waived Bruce’s slightly sheepish look away with a smile, and took a sip of her coffee. She certainly wasn’t going to mind the fact that Bruce had taken over, practically doubled everyone’s pay and streamlined operating costs.

“Thank you.” Martha turned to look at Lucius, who was eyeing her carefully.

“For what?” 

Lucius tilted his head in Bruce’s direction. “For him. I’ve known that boy since he was in diapers. Was there after his parents died as much as he’d let me be.” He looked down at his coffee and the remains of his scone and eggs. “He’s been happier than I’ve seen him in years.” The man met her gaze dead on, and there was a certain level of threat there that would have put her hackles up if she didn’t completely understand the feeling, “And I think a large part of that’s because of you.” 

Martha nodded. “He and my boy, Clark, they were friends, at the end. Though it was rocky, from what I understand.” 

“It certainly caused some property damage,” Lucius smirked, and Martha fought a shudder at the thought, though she did smile back. She was glad Bruce had someone at least relatively in the know.

“Either way, he’s a good man,” Martha smiled over at Bruce, who had sidled up to Miranda. Apparently he’d just said something that had Janene laughing in relief. “I’m glad--glad that I can do anything, no matter how small.” 

Lucius nodded, and they both sipped their coffee idly until Bruce got back to the table, and even though Lucius paid the tab by then, Bruce mysteriously still managed to leave his usual tip. 

One of these days she’d figure out how he did that.

XxXxX

Bruce was muttering something to Diana over his coffee as the woman nodded idly back, sawing into her steak, when Martha sat down and placed a plate of buttered scones with their homemade strawberry jam in front of him. He blinked then looked at it so completely askance that Diana burst into laughter. The man looked at her, well, almost pleadingly, and Martha simply handed him a set of rolled up silverware and raised an eyebrow that she hadn’t had to use since Clark was a teenager.

Bruce ate to Martha’s satisfied smile and Diana’s peals of laughter. 

Martha, content that he was eating even if it was just to humor her, settled back and enjoyed her own Philly cheesesteak until Ryan brought them all refills. She managed to turn back just fast enough that she caught bewildered look on Bruce’s face as he stared at her, though it was gone in moments, and she remembered that Bruce had lost his parents early. From what she remembered of the news stories, she had the same name as his mother. There was probably some transference or other psychology term at play there that meant the man missed his mother and for some reason she reminded him of her. 

Hmm, well, maybe he reminded her of Clark a little too, for all their differences. It was definitely not their surface characteristics, as broody and introspective as Clark could get when things went wrong, he never quite took it to the level that Bruce seemed capable of. But like she’d told Lucius, Bruce was a good man, and this world chewed good men up and spit them out, just like it had done to her boy. And even to Bruce a bit in the backlash of one of his former employees being responsible for the mess at the Capital. 

If this was how Bruce wanted to honor Clark’s memory, and maybe fight a few of his own demons, Martha wasn’t going to argue. 

Even though she was the one the cleared the table and triple check things, Bruce still somehow managed to leave Ryan his usual tip. 

XxXxX

Given Bruce’s usual level of rather detached if caring attention, Martha was surprised when a man, probably her age if not a little older, approached her in the diner just a few days after Bruce’s last visit and handed her a cell phone. 

“Mrs. Kent, I need you to leave with Alfred, it’s important,” Bruce ground out quickly, before she could say anything. 

She pulled the phone away from her face for a moment to glance at the contact, which did read Bruce Wayne for all that that mattered, before bringing it back to her ear. She scowled and eyed the older man who had handed her the phone suspiciously. “How do I know for sure this is you?”

There was a pause, before Bruce almost hesitantly said, “It was the cape that gave me away.” 

Martha exhaled slowly, before nodding. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” Bruce said before the call quickly disconnected. 

She handed the phone back to the man, “Alfred, was it?” 

“Yes, ma’am. I must insist we hurry, ma’am. Unfortunately we had to get a little creative with the parking.” 

“Call me Martha,” she stated, before turning to a wide eyed Janene, “I need to leave.” The poor woman nodded, and quickly hustled out of her way as Martha went behind the counter to grab her jacket and bag. 

Somehow she was only a little surprised when she followed Alfred out of the diner to find a Wayne Enterprises branded helicopter idling (most likely illegally) at the side of the road.

XxXxX

The first few moments of the flight were quiet before Alfred, seated across from her in the helicopter's cabin, got the conversation started with a rather jovial, “however did you manage to get Master Bruce to eat something that wasn’t a protein shake, alcohol, or caffeine when not under the disturbingly judgmental eyes of high society?” 

It broke Martha from her worry enough that she couldn’t help but start a bit. “An eyebrow,” she replied, and then laughed as Alfred practically gaped at her.

This prompted a grin from him, along with a rather dry, “Quite.” His eyes brightened a little as he appraised her, crinkles appearing at the edges. 

She tilted her head as she pursued the man. “How do you know Bruce? And more importantly his eating habits?” 

The man smiled. “I am his butler, ma’am.” 

Her eyes widened a tad, “my name is Martha. His butler?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” she raised her eyebrow, giving the exact same look that had caused Bruce to eat, and Alfred laughed throatily, “Yes, Martha.” 

Martha found the man to be an absolute ball and quite happily settled back into the plush seats. “Well, as his butler, you must have some truly amazing stories.” 

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he said, just a hint of stiff upper crust coming out, and Martha decided to see how far she could push before more of that accent came out. She had the feeling that even though Alfred called himself Bruce’s butler, there was something more there. 

Still, trading stories of Clark and Bruce’s respective childhoods kept her entertained enough that she managed not to fidget too much as they passed the trip to Gotham, and even waved away Alfred’s apologies at the trip taking as long as it would as that the jet was currently engaged elsewhere. 

They were in the middle of comparing Clark’s and Bruce’s high-school crushes (Lana Lang for Clark vs maybe a fleeting interest or two for Bruce) when the pilot called out that they were a few minutes out. Martha glanced outside the window and gaped a little at the burnt ruins of a rather large mansion. Work crews scurried around it in what looked to Martha like complete chaos as they set up a veritable castle of scaffolding. 

“Wayne Manor. It was burnt down in an accident some time ago. Master Wayne has only recently been inspired to rebuild.” There was a pregnant pause at the end of the sentence, and Martha glanced over at Alfred, who looked mildly considering before he met her eyes. “I believe that we have your son to thank for that.” 

Martha nodded, and looked back out the window as they flew over forested swamp land that gave way to a large lake with a beautiful, grand modern home at the shore, partly tucked into the trees. 

They touched down at a helipad on the roof of a partly detached garage as Diana walked up to the helicopter to release the door. This was the first time since the funeral that Martha had seen the woman outside of the lunch visits that she had accompanied Bruce to, and right now, she reminded her far too much of that time. There was an air of aloofness, a distance to the woman that screamed of far too much weight on her shoulders. 

Alfred jumped down from the helicopter first and extended a hand which Martha gratefully accepted. The height was a little awkward.

They were barely at the steps from the landing pad before the chopper took off, causing another rush of air that almost knocked her off her feet. Diana grasped at her arms, steadying her, and Martha paused. 

There was something in the way the woman moved, touched her, that was not entirely like the way that Clark operated, all coiled tension and measured movements, but still contained that same air of restraint, of steady cautiousness. Martha considered some of the things that she’d heard, stories of a woman there when Clark died, that she’d fought with him against the monster and had had many of the same abilities. Martha looked up and met her eyes, “are you from another world like my son?” 

Diana’s mouth turned up in a small, amused smile. “You could say that, figuratively, more than literally, however.” 

Martha nodded, something in her breathing a sigh of relief. It felt nice to know that was true--that Clark hadn’t been alone in that fight, even if their stories began differently. Perhaps that was what this call was about. 

She couldn’t help patting the woman’s cheek a bit like she would have Clark’s before stepping back, taking some solace in the way the woman’s eyes softened. “Thank you, my dear.” She’d said it for the help of a steadying hand, but somehow she knew the woman realized that she’d also meant to thank her for being there for her son. And for Bruce.

“I am just Diana, honored elder.” 

“And I’m still just Martha, Diana. I always have been.” 

Diana nodded regally at both her and Alfred before turning and heading down the stairs. “Bruce is in the study.” 

XxXxX

Martha still had no idea what this was all about as she cornered Bruce with a quick hug while Alfred smirked and poured her a coffee before retreating to a corner. Diana claimed the large black office chair behind an ornate desk, leaning back and throwing her feet on the polished wood, eyeing Bruce over her clasped fingers as he lead Martha to one of the other couches. 

There was a moment of silence as Martha glanced around, taking stock of the room. Once she was satisfied with her perusal she pinned Bruce with a sharp look. “What’s this about?” 

Bruce shifted, looking slightly uncomfortable before he hedged, “I’d rather explain this just once, and Ms. Lane is still about 20 minutes out. I had to convince her to come back from Maine.” 

“Maine?” Martha asked, cocking her head in puzzlement. Wasn’t Maine supposed to be quiet? Almost immediately her mind came up with the realization that Kansas was supposed to be pretty quiet too. 

Bruce’s shoulders moved in what may have been a shrug. “I didn’t ask.” Even though he probably wanted to, Martha gathered from the way his brow furrowed ever so slightly. But it would save everyone involved a lot of time and trouble if he just stayed out of it.

Deciding not to push it further, Martha nodded and took pity on the poor man who looked rather awkward in the silence of the room and gestured to the walls. “This is quite an impressive collection. They’re not all cleverly disguised phonebooks are they?” 

Bruce jumped on the topic, practically running to the wall. “No, though some of them are fairly useless and are just for show.” He came back with a few books, “My favorites, of what’s in here.” She carefully took the books. There was an old copy of Peter Pan, a few other fairy tale editions, and then a hard bound book that was a compilation of Gray Ghost comics. “These are some of the ones that survived the mansion fire.” Martha really needed to look up the fire, though she was sure the whole story wouldn’t be published. Bruce then started on a several stories about the books, and she couldn’t help but smile softly as he shuffled the volumes around in her grasp so he could point out interesting features. 

How the press had ever believed the idea that this man was some type of vapid fool she had no idea. Then again he was a phenomenal actor. 

She was less surprised as the discussion on books turned into a rather spirited discussion on various mythological items between Bruce and Diana. She shared an amused look with Alfred, who had a slightly gleeful air about him as he hovered near the wet bar. 

It truly made the time fly before a deep bell rang through the house and Alfred rushed out of the room to get the door. 

Martha couldn’t help but smile when Lois stormed into the room looking fit to be tied, yelling at Bruce for practically having her hog tied and kidnapped on his private jet before she noticed anyone else in the room. 

“I did no such thing,” Bruce smiled a rather charming smile, “I just told Mr. White that I would love for you to do an exclusive on an announcement that I’d like to make.” 

“Same thing.” Martha couldn’t help but note that Lois looked pretty even when flushing a little in embarrassment. She levered herself to her feet and stepped forward to hug her daughter-in-law (because she was, even if she and Clark hadn’t been able to make it down the aisle).

“What’s going on, Bruce?” Lois asked, and Bruce got that uncomfortable look again, before looking over at Diana, who nodded in a manner than Martha was more than half tempted to call conspiringly. 

“After the fight with the creature, LexCorp took a few hits,” Bruce stated. “It was privately held and while it had no shortage of talent and was prominent in several fields, at its heart the company was built around Lex Luthor. The kid wasn’t the genius his father was, but he was smart enough to still be a main creative force.”

Martha started a little. “And? Isn’t Luthor still in jail?” 

Bruce gave a slightly vicious grin that took Martha aback for a moment. “He is. That’s one of the main reasons that it is floundering now, giving me, and others, an unprecedented opportunity to pull it apart.”

“The buy outs!” Lois practically crowed, and Martha agreed. Every business, technology, science, and medical related section or periodical had been filled with rumors of what was happening with Luthor’s company, and that Wayne Enterprises was right in the middle of it. 

“I’ve had Wayne Enterprises buy out as many LexCorp subsidiaries as I could and headhunted people from the companies that I couldn’t get. We’ve bought up auction blocks of servers and hardware as they had to restructure to survive. Patents, contracts, anything that we could get our hands on really. I paid special attention to getting what I could of their information on Clark and the ships.” 

Lois nodded. “I’ve been tracking some of their government contracts. Unfortunately most of it looked like back room deals, right?”

Bruce nodded, his smile tight and a bit smaller than the one he gave in public. Still, Martha couldn’t help but feel that it was a bit more real. “Yes. That’s what I found too, especially when comparing what was publically available or recoverable to the data that I got from his personal servers.” Martha decided not to ask how he got his hands on that information, it was probably something she didn’t want to hear, especially given the way that Diana had grinned. 

“The discrepancies lead me to a series of shell companies and given some of the purchase orders that I found, I went in… off the clock, before making any overtures.” His head tilted, and Martha pictured the first time she had seen Bruce in person. Suddenly, with that one look, the stories around the Bat of Gotham took on a whole new meaning and she could see why people were terrified of a single person. 

Martha was also getting a bad feeling about where this story was leading, if Bruce had called her here. “What did you find?” 

Bruce looked at Diana again, before glancing to Alfred, seeming to draw something from each, before he leaned forward, such a serious air about him that Martha wanted to shake him, tell him to spit whatever it was out. 

“This will likely be hard to hear, but I need you to believe me. Believe that I have done everything in my power to verify what I am about to tell you, and that we’re in this with you both until the end, no matter what you decide.”

“Bruc-” Martha started to answer before a soft noise came from behind her, a creak and shuffling, and on instinct Martha turned. The door had only opened a crack, still it was enough to cause Bruce to move past her in a blink and kneel in front of the gap. She quickly started running through every possible option she could think of for Bruce needing to be at that height, and wasn’t liking any of the options. Especially when he started a short whispered conversation. 

Then the door opened the rest of the way and there was a flash of movement from the hallway. 

Bruce leaned towards the hallway before standing and facing them with a small child, probably 4 or 5, in his arms. Not much of the child was visible given the way they curled into Bruce’s neck shyly, just a riot of black hair above the folds of a soft looking red blanket.

There was something about what little she could see of the boy however that caused her to stand. Her heart thudded in her chest and she felt short of breath. Lois let out a quick gasp beside her as well when Bruce shifted and carefully, with hushed words, got the child--the little boy--to look at them. 

Clark.


End file.
